Sorry this will probably significantly shorter because I have an SAT tomorrow. Anyways, enjoy these suicidal thoughts.

-

Almost a week had gone by without a word from neither Adam nor Matt Olivas.

Not that I'd want to openly admit this to myself, but I was beginning to let the paranoia of the situation set in a bit. It was just a small amount, but of course as fate will have it, and I'd know better than anyone that it would escalate quite generously at incredulous speeds.

And to add even more things that could've possibly made my fucking existence even more difficult, I'd had a session with Dr. Scott just about every goddamn day this previous week. They just so happened to be twice as long and three times as comprehensive and thorough then before. Which in turn just ended up making me feel more empty and worthless than before.

I just missed Adam so fucking much, and that was the terribly unfortunate and inevitable truth.

❧

I awoke to the light patter of rain hitting the glass on the outside of my window. I pull the burgundy velvet curtains aside to stare out onto the blue mist. The sky was an unusually dark gray color, especially considering the previous "always sunny" and goddamn bright mornings in which Eugene so generously offers. It was a nice change, I guess.

As aforementioned, I did not particularly enjoy most things in life. I fact, I am not entirely sure I even I could enjoy them, but besides that, nothing made me appreciate anything anymore. Even art and music had little effect on my mood. However, whenever it rains I feel surrounded. The clear, empty sky is consumed with dark varying clouds and rain and hail and fog. It is no longer empty.

I do not want to be empty anymore; I never really did, but this time, I want something to change. I'm willing to surrender a bit of myself, my insight, my pessimistic nihilism, in order to feel any sort of consumption.

Of course I'd be much more fond of Adam closing the gaps of depression with his never-ceasing optimism and charismatic ebullience, but I cannot entirety trust myself. I am getting there, but I do not trust the flickering light in a room of darkness. I don't want it to go out; that would be the absolute worst possible scenario: An already shitty dark room just to add another shitty burnt-out bulb. Why would I want to drag himself into my darkness? Of course I could not let that happen, he was much too important to me.

❧

One of the gym instructors in which I certainly abhorred made his way to the center of the court, his shoes making that godawful stretching noise across the wood, "Hey! You guys up in the bleachers need to dress out today. Now I don't want to do this to you, and I know you don't want to do this, but the school board is making us do a physical evaluation today. Sorry, don't blame me. So get dressed and line up outside of the coaches' office!"

I rolled my eyes and exhaled in annoyance, yet decided not to unnecessarily defy whatever they wanted out of us.

A few other students similar to my current state of physical motivation, or rather the lack of it, slowly made their way down the bleachers. I followed after them silently cursing everything.

I entered the locker room, suddenly so aware of the situation at hand: I had to undress in front of everyone. Not that I had anything to hide, (I wear my emotions on my shoulders) it was just so fucking uncomfortable to have to change in the presence of other students.

Whilst absconding away into the farthest and most deserted corner is the locker room, I had noticed Matt Olivas. He stood near the entrance to the showers, carelessly throwing off his clothes to replace them with the appropriate gym attire. I stared at himself for perhaps a bit too long in diversion and wonder. Where had they disappeared off to? Why had Adam abandoned me?

Eventually Matt had noticed my quite obvious staring. He beamed at me, "Aye Cal what's up?"

I flushed, "Oh-uhm, I'm sorry. I was just curious as to why you haven't been here. I mean, you and your brother."

Was is possible to fuck that sentence up even more?

He cocked his head to the side, although his jaunty demeanor did not falter, "We went out of town."

I wanted to ask where, but that seemed a bit too prying. So I settled for a silent nod and continued to uncomfortably hide my nakedness away from everyone else. Not that they cared, (it seems I was the only one that did) but I still did not want unnecessary attention drawn towards my pale and thin disproportionate body. I really did hate myself, inside and out.

After enduring the condemning embarrassment of the locker room, the gym instructor made his uncanny return, "Get in alphabetical order."

I exhaled again.

I stood in the exact same place as before, watching as all of the other students place themselves in correspondence. I did not know any of their names, besides Matt Olivas, so I figured I'd wait until someone recognized that I needed to be in between A and C.

"Bennett get behind Banson, think for yourselves guys come on. I don't wanna do this much as you don't," the gym instructor scoffed at the line of students before returning to the coaches' office, "Andrews you're up."

I complied with the gym instructor's orders, getting behind a lanky student with red hair, in which I had only hoped was "Banson."

The gym instructor called my name a few minutes prior to Andrews'. I followed him into his office.

The coaches' office was painted a daunting bright green color to parallel that of the school's colors: green and white. Along with the gaudy green, the walls were littered with row upon row of various sports team photos; a majority of them being football. All of the players in the picture shared the same constructed expression. They were all the fucking same. Every one of them from 1987 to 2016. It was so uniform and disturbing I couldn't quite focus on anything else. Is this what the world has come to? Or I guess nostalgia proves it has always been this way: the same.

"So, Calvin, any physical injuries lately?" he inquires.

"No."

You wouldn't catch me doing any kind of physical activity whatsoever. Except maybe climbing to the top of a cliff to kill myself, then yes, I would be exerting force. And most definitely injury, if not death.

"Alright let's get your weight, height, and BMI, okay? Step on the scale to the left of you please."

I comply yet again to avoid conflict, stepping on the scale and shutting my eyes reassuringly before doing so.

"Why are you doing that?" the gym instructor interrupts my diffidence.

I open my eyes and flush a terrible shade of shameful doubt, "Oh, I'm sorry."

He gives me an odd look but does not press any further, "Alright then, looks like 133."

Fucking why?

"You're a little underweight considering you're.." he pauses, raising a yard stick to myself, "..about 5'10."

I am entirely aware that nothing about me is healthy, don't worry.

He clears his throat to get my attention, "But uh, I think that'll be alright once you bulk up."

The gym instructor pats myself hard on the back and chuckles to himself. I flush again and make my way out of the office in a hurried and quite fraught manner. I should just fucking end it now, right? I'm absolutely worthless, and now I know that even my body thinks I should be dead. I fucking should be dead right now, if it wasn't for your goddamn brother!

I almost screamed at Matt Olivas, whom was across the wooden court messing with other students in the line. I glared at him in such a desolate way; fortunately he was unaware of my angsty death-stares. I did not want to make an enemy out of him. Or really anyone for that matter. But especially Matt, because without Matt, perhaps I will be without Adam. And without Adam, as inopportune as it must be, I am without a reason to keep myself alive. Not that I've decided that I want to stay, because I definitely do not. Adam just makes it a bit harder to commit to anything, at least for now. Nothing was ever permanent, which in turn meant some kind of change that I could hold onto. Some kind of hope? I wouldn't prefer to address whatever kind of feeling inconsistency gave me as hope, but for a lack of a better term, it was hope.

❧

Since my license was revoked by non other than my loving and supportive parents, I was consequently stick either riding the bus or getting picked up by my mother. Recently I'd been receiving rides from Adam, but today I wasn't entirely sure if that would be the case. Oddly enough, I had no way to contact him other than through my mother or Mike, so I went for the latter.

I caught sight of Matt sprinting back and forth between the band hall and the D parking lot as usual, so I called after him whilst he was crossing between the two, "Matt!"

He stops and smirks once he notices me, "Oh hey Cal, what's up?"

"Is Adam here, picking you up?" I ask him, trying so desperately to hide my "hopefulness."

He glances towards the D lot briefly before answering myself, "Yeah, do you wanna talk to him?"

I nod apathetically.

"He's parked in the second row, in the maroon SUV. I'll be back in a bit," Matt informs me before heading back towards the band hall.

I follow his directions and walk through the rows of cars, finally spotting the Chevy Tahoe that "saved my life."

Adam Olivas is in the front seat, as I had assumed, staring down at his lap. As I get closer I notice he is reading a book.

"Adam?" I ask lingering next to the side of the car door awkwardly.

His eyes flicker upwards onto myself, grinning immediately, "Cal!"

I find myself smiling back at him, but then it fades quickly, "You've been gone for a week."

His smile slightly falters as well, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Mama was visiting an old friend in San Diego, she decided to take all of us down to the beach. It was so nice and sunny, the coast was so warm and beautiful."

Without knowing what to say, I respond in a juxtaposition, "It rained while you were gone."

He chuckles, "It always rains here."

I sigh, "Yeah."

Rain is enjoyable, rain originates from clouds and clouds fill the empty sky, preventing the sun. Rain consumes, I like the rain; but he already knows that.

"I've missed you, wanna come over?" He asks.

My face flushes to a shade of red I wasn't even sure existed. Holy shit, he misses me?

"I-uh-yeah," I stutter, my cheeks still burning.

"Aw Cal, you're blushing," he says attempting to poke at my right cheek.

I turn away from him, "Don't remind me."

He frowns in mock chagrin, "Don't be angry with me, hop in, we'll wait for Matt."

I comply, of course, and sit next to him in his 2006 maroon Chevy Tahoe, feeling the best kind of embarrassment possible.